


Dance with me

by BecauseImClassy



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Bathroom Sex, Canon Divergence, Dancing, F/M, Halloween, Hook-Up, Identity Reveal, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, a little bit of hurt/comfort, lots of talking, nightclubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9441986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseImClassy/pseuds/BecauseImClassy
Summary: After her recent experiences at Union Allied, Karen needs a chance to relax. A costume party at a club seems like just what she needs, especially when she spots a familiar man in a black mask.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a canon divergence, but not a full-on AU. Imagine that the first couple of episodes of season one have just happened, and then...this. The timeline for season one isn't really specific, but it seems to be autumn in the early episodes, so I figure Halloween is fair game.

Karen rummaged in her closet. It had been years since she did anything special to celebrate Halloween, but this year she wanted to go out and have some fun. Clubs all over the city were throwing costume parties, and she was looking forward to the chance to leave behind her own identity for a night, to dress up and put on a mask and go out dancing.

Not that she disliked her identity. But there had been far too much stress and violence in her life lately. She was in a good place now, finally, since the story of the illegal money-laundering she’d discovered at her last job had been published in the Daily Bulletin. The attempts on her life had stopped, and she had talked her way into a brand new job, working for the two lawyers who had offered to defend her when she was framed for murder.

They were good men, both of them. Kind, and decent, and trying to do some good in the world. Karen hated the fact that her recent experiences had left her so suspicious, seeing shadows even where there were none—when Matt had come in to work injured the other day, and said he’d blindly walked into a door, all her instincts had screamed that he was lying. She’d been filled with a horrible, familiar feeling of dread— _Please, not another boss with secrets, the last one nearly got me killed_ —until she noticed that Foggy accepted his explanation easily, unquestioningly.

Which was more likely? That both Matt and Foggy were hiding something from her, or that a man who couldn’t see had walked into a door, and she was imagining threats that didn’t exist?

She felt ashamed of suspecting him, even though she knew it was perfectly understandable under the circumstances. She didn’t want to be forever looking over her shoulder, unable to trust anyone. She couldn’t let Union Allied do that to her.

A costume party was a perfect opportunity to step away from her everyday life for a few hours. To indulge in fantasy, or at least anonymity, and join a throng of people intent only on enjoying themselves. It was time to unwind, to blow off a little steam. Maybe hook up, if she saw any likely prospects.

She found what she wanted at the back of the closet, and pulled it out into the light. The dress was cheap black brocade, souvenir of a goth phase she’d gone through in college, and kept because it looked damn good on her. It had a fitted bodice with a low neckline, loose three-quarter length sleeves, and a full skirt that came down to mid-calf. Paired with a black mask, it would do well enough for a last-minute Halloween costume. The skirt had a pocket concealed in its folds, large enough to hold a few necessities, so she wouldn’t need to carry a purse.

She put her hair up, leaving a few tendrils to curl loosely around her face, and dabbed on some jasmine perfume—it was strong, but she didn’t think it was too much, given all the other smells there would be inside a club.

Surveying herself in the mirror, she was satisfied. She wasn’t dressed up as anything in particular, but she looked perfectly appropriate for a Halloween party, and completely unlike Karen Page, newly-minted legal secretary. She smiled at her reflection, and headed out.

* * * * *

The club was noisy and dark, and crowded with people in costumes. Karen eased her way onto the dance floor and began to move, letting the thumping beat of the music fill her head. Nearby, Captain Jack Sparrow was dancing with Catwoman; beyond them was a group of six dressed as the Avengers. There was the usual assortment of witches and ghosts, sexy devils, sexy nurses, sexy nuns. A couple of weeping angels, a few very unsettling clowns. Some people, like Karen, had simply dressed up in black and put on a mask.

Off to one side she saw a…ninja? leaning against the wall, arms folded. A black scarf was tied over the top half of his head, but below that he wore what looked like a perfectly ordinary black shirt and pants, remarkable only for how tightly they fit him. If he _was_ a ninja, he was pretty half-assed. As the lights on the dance floor shifted and changed, she saw that the scarf over his face had no eye holes, and she stared at him, her heart suddenly beating faster.

Once before, very recently, she had seen a man in black, in a mask with no eye holes. The night someone had come to her apartment to kill her, and the man in the mask had saved her life.

Could this actually be him? It had been hard to get a good look at him that night, in the dark, in the rain, her head ringing from being flung against the wall by her would-be murderer. But as near as she could remember, he looked exactly like that half-assed ninja in the corner. He wasn’t dancing, just standing there, head slightly bent. If it was him, what was he doing here? And what would he do if Karen tried to get him to dance?

He probably wouldn’t recognize her, dressed up and masked as she was. But that could be a good thing. It put them on the same footing, in a way she found more appealing the more she thought about it. She didn’t know who he was; she wanted to know if she could catch his eye without him knowing who she was, either. She made her way across the dance floor toward him.

* * * * *

Matt leaned against the wall, feeling frustrated. His information indicated there was criminal activity happening at this club, and a Halloween party was an ideal chance to investigate without calling attention to himself. But now that he was here, he had found nothing. 

A club was a terrible environment for someone with his enhanced senses. There were too many people packed into the space, too much movement everywhere. The smells were overpowering, alcohol, crowds of sweating humanity, the chalky scent of a smoke machine. But most of all, the noise was appalling. He had been forced to put in earplugs under his mask to keep from being overwhelmed. He could still hear, but everything was muffled and out of balance, certain frequencies of sound coming through more clearly than others. The inescapable thump of the music vibrated in his bones. How had he ever thought that he’d be able to find what he was searching for in this din?

A floral scent tickled his nose—jasmine?—and he sensed movement close to him. Someone had approached, and was dancing right in front of him. A woman, he decided. She reached out and tugged on his hand, and he realized she had come over here deliberately, she wanted him to dance with her.

Her hand was warm and soft in his. Her perfume was strong, but it was a natural scent, not a cloying synthetic, and he found he preferred it to the other smells surrounding them. He hesitated. He had come here for a purpose. But so far, he had failed. And after all, he should probably try to blend in with the crowd, doing what they did, so as not to look suspicious. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but then neither were most of the people here, if he was any judge. He could certainly move in time with the music. He smiled at the jasmine-scented woman, and pushed away from the wall.

Karen was elated. She felt certain now that he was the man in the mask—up close, there was an undeniable familiarity to him. True, she couldn’t see much of his face, but she was sure she’d seen it before. She looked at him closely as they danced, trying not to be too obvious about it. His mask covered his hair, his ears, his whole face down to the end of his nose, making it impossible to guess what he would look like unmasked. Which was, of course, the point. But he had a strong jaw, covered in dark stubble, and nicely shaped lips. His smile was wide and attractive. His body was slim and muscular, his tight shirt leaving little to the imagination. He moved lightly, with an easy confidence; she might be projecting a little, but to her eye he moved like someone who had trained his body carefully and knew what it could do.

The night she had watched him fight her attacker, she had been frightened, and amazed, and intrigued. She’d stared, her heart in her mouth, unable to look away from him. Now, seeing him up close, she was staring again, her heart rate picking up for a different reason. He was _hot._

She was wary of strangers after recent events, and her half-formed plan to find someone to hook up with tonight was prompted as much by determination to overcome her fear, and take back some control over her life, as by the actual desire for sex. But she was definitely feeling that desire now. The man who had saved her life was right here in front of her, and was sexy as hell. What could be better? He might not be interested, of course. But she felt safe enough with him to try her luck. She smiled, and stepped closer.

Matt focused his senses on the woman before him, trying to ignore all the distracting input while he studied her. Her rapid heartbeat reached his ears clearly, along with a barely-perceptible rustle of fabric that suggested a long skirt. He could feel the heat coming off her body, and the way the air shifted and moved around her, telling him that she was tall, and slender, and that she danced with an undulating sway to her hips that definitely had his attention.

Beneath the strong smell of jasmine was the earthier scent of her skin, harder to detect but there if he concentrated. She was sweating a little from the heat of the room and her own exertion, and there was an unmistakable hint of arousal there, as well. A fleeting sense of familiarity tantalized him for an instant, but then she moved closer and the feeling was lost in the much stronger pull of attraction.

Should he be letting himself get distracted from his purpose this way? He mentally shrugged his shoulders. He had already circulated around the entire club, and found nothing. Why not let it go for a little while, and enjoy the moment? She was so close now their bodies were nearly touching, and his heartbeat sped up to match hers as her fingers stroked softly along his jaw and down his neck before coming to rest on his shoulder.

He smiled again, and slipped an arm around her waist, closing the remaining gap between them. How far, he wondered, did she want to take this? He raised his other hand to her face, feeling a loose strand of silky hair, the edge of a simple domino mask, and the soft warmth of her cheek. God, she felt as good as she smelled. He brushed his thumb over her lips, and felt her breath hitch in response.

Karen’s skin tingled, warmth pooling low in her belly. The masked man’s body pressed to hers, his arm holding her close, was the best thing she’d felt in months. He definitely seemed interested, but he wasn’t being pushy—he hadn’t touched her until she touched him first, and that thumb at her lips felt like a question that he was waiting for her to answer.

She leaned in and brushed her lips against his, and he responded immediately, returning the kiss eagerly. They both stopped dancing so as not to jostle each other, standing still and kissing. She let her mouth fall open a little and his tongue slipped inside, not delving in deeply, but— _oh_ —licking softly at the inside of her lips, gradually probing deeper as her own tongue darted out to explore his mouth. She moaned in approval, the sound swallowed up by the music. She felt the shift of his muscles under her hands as his own hands began to move.

Matt shifted one hand to the woman’s lower back and began stroking up and down the base of her spine. His other hand dropped from her cheek to the side of her neck. He felt the moan vibrate in her throat, and his cock twitched, doing its best to harden inside his tight pants. He might not have sight, but all his other senses were joining together in the familiar siren song of desire, his body drawn to hers like a magnet to iron. He trailed his fingers over her bare skin until he found the neckline of her dress where it crossed her shoulder. He followed the edge of the fabric as it curved down toward her breasts, fingertips caressing her décolletage. She quivered in response, the softness of her skin raising into goosebumps at his touch, her lips moving more urgently against his.

The smell of arousal grew stronger, and she rolled her hips, drawing gasps from them both. He rocked his hips in return, sliding the hand on her back lower, until it rested on the smooth curve of her ass. And they started to dance again, still kissing deeply, their bodies moving smoothly together in a slow grind. _Ah, god._ The rest of the world receded from his awareness as sensation coursed through him. It felt amazing, and yet it wasn't nearly enough. He wanted to touch more of her skin, to feel her hands on his skin. He wanted sex. He wanted to give her as much pleasure as she was giving him, he wanted to hear and smell and _feel_ her come apart in his arms, to sink into her and come apart himself. He knew all the laws against public indecency, and groaned in frustration and need.

Karen heard the groan, and nearly echoed it. He sounded like he was just as worked up as she was. She couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone this badly, this quickly, before. If she couldn’t get him someplace more private, _right now_ , she thought she might actually go up in flames. She had noticed a doorway at the back, earlier, that must lead to the restrooms. Not ideal, but it would have to do. She broke away from his lips to say “Come on,” in his ear, then took his hand and headed for the door. He followed willingly, helping her shoulder a way through the crowd on the dance floor.

There were several women in the ladies’ room, but no one did more than stare curiously as Karen led the man toward an empty stall. One of them looked him over appraisingly as they passed the sinks, then caught Karen’s eye and grinned. She grinned back, anticipation bubbling in her like champagne.

It was quieter in here, Matt noted with relief. He was a little behind the woman, her back to him, and he quickly reached under his mask and twitched the earplugs out of his ears, stuffing them in his pocket. It was also cooler, and less stuffy, a current of fresher air moving through the room. There must be a window open. He took a deep breath, and felt the woman do the same. The mingled smells of jasmine and lust filled his head, intoxicating and irresistible, now that they were away from the press of bodies in the main room. Once again he caught that elusive hint of familiarity, and once again it was immediately driven from his mind, this time by the sudden awareness of what a very bad idea it would be to have unprotected sex with a stranger. He hadn’t expected his evening to take this particular turn, and he was unprepared. Was she?

She led him into a stall and locked the door. Feeling a little sheepish, he bent close to her ear and whispered urgently, “Do you have condoms?”

She exhaled a nearly silent laugh against his cheek. One hand disappeared into the folds of her skirt, and emerged a moment later holding up a small, flat square. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, his fingers discreetly giving the square a quick feel and confirming that it was indeed a condom. _Trust, but verify._ He kissed her hand and released it with a smile, and she tucked the condom away again until they needed it.

And then she was kissing him, open-mouthed and hungry, and running her hands over his body eagerly. She tugged up on his shirt and he tensed for an instant—there was no way to pull it off without dislodging his mask. But she didn’t try to remove it, just pushed it up far enough to get her hands on his skin. He relaxed, leaning his shoulders back against the side of the stall, the blood throbbing in his veins, shivering pleasurably at her touch.

Karen ran her hands up and down the man’s back under his shirt, then brought them around to the front to trace the sculpted lines of his abs. He winced suddenly, and she felt a small square of gauze taped to his abdomen. _Shit_ , he was injured.

“Sorry,” she whispered against his lips. 

He nodded wordlessly, and resumed kissing her with an urgency that made it clear he didn’t want her to stop. Not too serious an injury, then. Good. She slid her hands up further, more carefully, feeling the smooth planes of his chest under her fingers. When she brushed against a nipple, he twitched and quivered. She did it again, and his head dropped back against the wall, his mouth falling open soundlessly.

God, he looked good, even with only half his face visible. His pretty lips were wet and red, his cheeks flushed pink. She wanted to run a hand into his hair, but couldn’t with the mask covering it. Instead, she bent her lips to his neck, made more accessible by the tilt of his head. She kissed him just beneath one ear, then trailed her lips down the side of his neck. He sighed in response, and tipped his head further, his hands sliding up her arms. She pressed her lips down firmly a few inches above the collar of his shirt, and began to suck and bite at his skin, stroking his nipple at the same time. He made a breathless, nearly inaudible moan, his back arching away from the wall. She angled her hips forward, slotting one thigh between his and rocking against him.

Matt’s legs nearly gave out. He tried not to groan, aware of the other people in the room, but he couldn’t stop himself rutting against the woman’s hip, grinding his straining cock against her. She was rubbing up against him the same way, breaking the suction at his neck with a gasp, her breath panting out of her in shallow, needy puffs of air.

He was going to come in his pants if this kept up much longer. With an effort, he pushed away from the wall, propelling her back until her back touched the opposite wall, and took a deep, calming breath. He could hear both of their hearts pounding like drums in the confined space. He gave the woman a slow, heated grin, and reached out to stroke her cheek.

Karen felt her whole body flush, her blood warming. That grin was a temptation to sin that she had no intention of resisting. She turned her head quickly toward the hand on her cheek, catching a finger between her teeth, sucking it and running her tongue over the tip. He breathed in sharply, lips parted, and she stared, wondering how it was possible for every expression he made with that mouth to look so damn sexy.

He pulled his finger free and ran it lightly over her lips. But instead of the kiss she was expecting, he bent toward her neck. As he leaned in, her eyes caught on the dark, angry mark she’d left on him, and she wondered if he was going to return the favor. But he didn’t. She felt his breath warm in her ear, his tongue slipping out to tease her skin, soft and wet. Karen’s eyes fluttered closed, and she was suddenly grateful for the thin metal wall at her back, supporting her as she leaned heavily against it. The man’s hands dropped to her waist, then slid up her ribs until they cupped her breasts.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly.

He felt for the lacing up the front of her bodice, untying the cords and tugging them loose while his lips ghosted over her neck, making her shiver. Her bodice opened, her bra was carefully pushed up out of the way, and then— _finally_ —she felt his hands on her skin. She quivered and bit her lip, trying not to moan, as his fingers caressed her bare breasts. Silently she damned their public location, and the necessity of keeping quiet. She reached for his chin and tipped his face up so she could kiss him, shuddering with pleasure as he stroked a nipple. 

He kissed her deeply, unhurriedly, as if they had the whole night ahead of them. Suddenly, Karen wished they did. This was turning into one of the best sexual experiences she’d ever had; for a quick hookup in a public restroom, it was phenomenal. But knowing what she knew, she knew that he wasn’t going to give her his number, or his name, or any other information that would let her find him again. This was a one-time opportunity, only made possible by their mutual anonymity. All she could do was make the most of it, here and now, while she had him.

Matt tried to keep his own desire under control a little longer, by concentrating on hers. God, her skin was like satin, but warm and alive. His fingers, sensitive as a seismograph, registered every minute twitch and shiver, every response to his touch. He’d been expecting a quick fuck up against the wall, and was surprised to find that he wanted this to last. He had deliberately stepped back and slowed things down—partly to make sure the woman got what she needed, but also, he realized, because he didn’t want it to be over so soon.

He regretted his secret identity for a moment—because he was who he was, there was no question of prolonging their acquaintance beyond this encounter. True, she probably thought he was just some random guy in a particularly lazy Halloween costume. But he couldn’t take the chance. Best to just enjoy this for what it was, and move on.

He slid one hand around behind her back and stepped back, pulling her with him away from the wall. He turned and sat down on the toilet, then took hold of her hips and drew her toward him, nudging his knees in between her legs. He smiled up at her and tugged her down, so that she sat astride his lap.

Karen was puzzled for a moment, unsure what the man had in mind but willing to go along until she found out. Once she was sitting on his legs, her chest level with his head, she got the idea. He learned forward, one hand at her back pressing her toward him, the other spreading her bodice open wider, and then he was kissing her breasts. Dear god, his mouth was even better than his hands. She felt the fabric of his mask and the rasp of stubble as he rubbed his cheek against her, and then he closed his lips around a nipple, and the shock of pleasure arrowed straight down between her legs.

Again she wanted to run her fingers into his hair, and couldn’t. She writhed in his lap, gripping his shoulders convulsively. He sucked at her nipple, and she panted and shuddered as he flicked his tongue repeatedly over the hard peak.

He worked one hand underneath her skirt, feeling his way up to where her thighs were spread wide over his. He stroked her firmly, and a desperate gasp escaped her. She had to get her panties off, she had to feel those fingers on her bare flesh.

She pulled his face out of her bodice, and whispered “Hold that thought,” breathlessly in his ear. He sat back and waited, flashing her that sinful grin again, while she stood up and slipped off her panties. She put them on top of the toilet paper dispenser—surely that was cleaner than the floor?—and resumed her seat straddling his thighs, lifting her skirt up and out of the way so the fabric pooled in his lap.

Matt slid a hand under her skirt once more, running his palm over the soft skin of her inner thigh. She felt so good! He began kissing her breasts again, sliding his hand further up her leg, and she caught her breath and held it, waiting for his touch. When his fingers found her slick opening and one, then two, slipped inside, she sighed and quivered, grabbing his shoulders again and holding on. He drew his fingers back and began to stroke the sensitive folds of her flesh, feeling his way carefully. He listened intently for every small, involuntary sound she made, little gasps and barely audible cries bursting from her as his fingers glided and pressed and explored.

His mouth at her breast found the nipple again, and he circled around it with his tongue while below, a finger circled around her clit. Karen pressed her mouth hard against his masked head, muffling the throaty groan she couldn’t quite suppress. She was trembling with need, tension mounting as his mouth and his fingers drove her wild. She was close, she could feel it, the blood pounding in her ears. And then he sucked at her nipple, warm and wet, his finger stroking her just _so_ , and she shuddered into release, her head rolling back, her thighs clenching around his. She managed not to cry out, but she panted for breath, her arms slipping around him as waves of pleasure rolled through her.

For a moment she just sat there, embracing him as her body relaxed, his ear pressed to her chest listening to the thunder of her heartbeat. Then she braced her hands on his shoulders and stood up, reaching in her skirt pocket again for the condom.

Matt reached for the toilet paper to wipe his fingers, and stood up. She handed him the condom, then cupped his face between her hands and kissed him, hot and thorough, her tongue sliding against his as he quickly undid his pants. He sighed in relief as his cock sprang free from confinement, rigid and throbbing. He pulled his pants down just far enough to be out of the way, tore open the foil wrapper and rolled on the condom.

The woman turned and leaned back once more against the wall of the stall. She pulled up her skirt and lifted one leg, wrapping it around his hips. He bent his knees slightly, looking for the right angle, and she took hold of his cock to help guide him. There was a moment of fumbling, they both tilted their hips, and then suddenly he slipped all the way into her and they both gasped. He paused for a moment to make sure he hadn’t hurt her, and she nodded in encouragement.

He gripped her hips and began thrusting in and out, burying himself again and again in her tight warmth. He wasn’t going to last long, he could tell. He let the sensations overwhelm him, his whole body aroused, every nerve tingling, leaning forward to brush his lips over her cheek, her jaw, her neck, wherever he could reach, kisses growing sloppy and uncoordinated as he rapidly neared the brink. She was making those soft, panting cries again, and the sound fired his blood. He thrust faster, she clenched her muscles around him, and suddenly he convulsed, orgasm surging through him like an electrical current. His hips rocked uncontrollably and he buried his face in her neck, a strangled growl in his throat.

He rested there for a moment, while his pounding heart calmed and his breath came back. Then he straightened up with a smile, his cock slipping out of her.

Karen straightened her leg and set it back down with relief. That position wasn’t one she could hold comfortably for very long. But it had _definitely_ been worth it. She watched, feeling lazy and satisfied, as the man in the mask peeled off the condom and tossed it in the sanitary product disposal bin, and pulled his pants back up. She tugged her bra back down into place, and started to lace her bodice back up. Somewhat to her surprise, the man stepped forward to help. He threaded the laces back through all the holes quickly and neatly, then handed the ends to her, so she could pull them as tight as she wanted and tie them off.

He smiled again, and slid one hand up the side of her neck to cup her cheek…and then he stopped, and lifted his head abruptly, his face turned away from her.

Faintly, Matt heard the sound of men’s voices, coming from the far side of the room. _The open window!_ The criminal activity he’d come here to find was taking place right now, _outside_ the club. He’d been looking in the wrong place.

He turned back to the woman, swiftly leaning in and whispering, “I have to go.” She inhaled sharply, her heart rate increasing, but he had no time for explanations. He turned to unlock the door—and there was a quick brush of lips against his cheek, and a whisper in his ear: “Be careful.” Then she stepped back, and he opened the door and slipped out of the stall.

Surprise at her words registered briefly in the back of his mind and was gone, his attention already elsewhere. He scanned the room, and once he’d located the window he climbed through it and was gone.

Karen scrambled back into her panties and exited the stall, just in time to see the masked man vanish out the window. She hurried over and peered out into the dark. It was hard to see much of anything, but she could hear the voices that had prompted his sudden departure—there was trouble brewing out there, right now, she was sure of it.

She left the restroom, ignoring the stares of two women fixing their hair in front of the mirrors, and made her way as quickly as she could through the dark, noisy club to the door. Stepping outside, she walked to the corner and turned cautiously down the side of the building. When she reached the back, she peered around the corner.

And there he was, in the middle of a fight, looking just as amazing as she remembered. Two men lay unmoving on the ground, another two were still on their feet and in the game. But as she watched, one of them went down and stayed down. The other gave up the fight and ran, away from her, thank goodness. The man in the mask gave chase, and they were quickly out of sight.

Karen sighed. She couldn’t help wanting to be sure that he was all right, but there was no point in trying to follow them. All she could do was hope for the best, and trust that he knew what he was doing. She made her way back around to the front of the club, and went home.

* * * * *

The next morning, Karen woke up late. She rushed through her morning routine, anxious not to be late for work—she was determined not to give her new bosses any reason to regret hiring her. In the shower, she decided not to take the time to wash her hair. She could clip it back in a barrette and it would look fine. As she got dressed, she decided she didn’t even have time to eat before she left. It would be faster to pick something up at the little bakery down the street. Bringing her breakfast in to work with her seemed like a lesser transgression than being late—she was pretty sure Matt and Foggy wouldn’t mind her eating at her desk, as long as there weren’t any clients there.

The office was deserted when she arrived, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She hung up her coat and set down her things on her desk, and went into the tiny kitchen to start a pot of coffee. As it brewed, she thought about the previous night. She wondered if the man in the mask had gotten what he was after. Well. Gotten the _other_ thing he was after. She smiled in remembered satisfaction.

Would she ever see him again? It wasn’t impossible, she had already run into him twice in the space of just a couple of weeks. She idly wondered what she would do if they met again. Would he recognize her? Would she tell him who she was?

Matt and Foggy arrived together, as they often did, talking and laughing as they hung up their coats.

“Good morning,” she called out from the kitchen.

“Hey, Karen,” “Good morning,” they answered.

Foggy crossed the main room to his office, while Matt approached the kitchen, yawning and trying to politely cover it with one hand.

“Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

“Nearly ready,” she assured him.

He stepped into the kitchen, trying not to reveal how _tired_ he was, and how his muscles ached. Some vestige of common sense in his brain told him that late nights filled with strenuous activity were _not_ good preparation for doing his best work in the office. He smiled to himself. At least last night, not all the strenuous activity had been fighting.

Even as he thought it, Karen moved closer to get her mug off the shelf in front of him—and his nose caught the scent of jasmine in her hair, faint against the stronger smell of coffee, but unmistakable.

He froze, the blood draining from his face.

Karen set down her mug and turned to Matt, but forgot what she’d been going to say, her eyes riveted to a fresh hickey on the side of his neck, partly visible above his shirt collar.

She stared at him wildly, all the air leaving her lungs.

An electric silence descended on the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

Karen stared at Matt in disbelief, her eyes darting from the hickey on his neck to his lips. She had spent enough time last night staring at those lips that she couldn’t possibly mistake them now. The jaw was the same, too, only clean-shaven.

She found her voice, and whispered “Holy shit.”

Matt. The man last night was _Matt._ But that meant that Matt was…no. Impossible. She tried to dismiss the thought, but the look of stunned consternation on his face only confirmed it. He must have recognized her, too, and the flare of his nostrils as she stared at him told her how. Her unwashed hair still held a faint trace of the perfume she’d worn last night.

Matt stood motionless, his senses trained on Karen like a laser. Blended with the scent of jasmine was her own natural smell, recognizably the same as the woman last night. He remembered now that elusive hint of familiarity about her, that he had so easily disregarded. He simply didn’t know Karen well enough yet, before last night, to have recognized her smell, hidden by perfume and surrounded by so many other, competing smells.

Of all the women in the city, he had hooked up with the one who worked in his office, and saw him every day.

He heard her heart rate increase sharply, and knew she had recognized him even before her whispered exclamation. For a wild moment he allowed himself to hope that she only knew he was the man from the club, nothing more—that she thought he had just been dressed up in a costume—but no, he knew better than that. Karen had seen him suited up and masked before, and recently. She knew. Oh god, she _knew._

The floor creaked as Foggy stepped out of his office, and Matt was hit with a wave of panic. _Foggy!_ He was coming toward the kitchen, he would see that something was wrong. What would Karen say to him? What could Matt say, what could he possibly do, to avert disaster?

Foggy’s approach set two questions flashing through Karen’s mind like lightning: Did Foggy know Matt was the man in the mask? And had Matt told him about the woman he’d been with last night? She didn’t think he’d be one for locker-room talk, but then up until ten seconds ago she hadn’t thought he was a _masked vigilante,_ so what did she know? But then she saw the panic on Matt’s face as he turned his head toward Foggy’s footsteps, and she thought she had her answer.

Leaning close, she whispered rapidly, “He doesn’t know?” Matt shook his head frantically.

She frowned, thinking quickly. This was more complicated than it appeared, which was saying something. Better keep quiet, and not risk a possible catastrophe, until she had more information. She squeezed his rigid shoulder, and whispered, “Trust me.”

As Foggy reached the kitchen doorway, she peered closely at Matt’s neck. _The most convincing lies are based on truth._

“Wow,” she said cheerfully, keeping her voice steady with an effort. “Looks like _someone_ had a good night.”

Foggy looked. “Is that a _hickey?_ ” he demanded. He grinned, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “ _Very_ professional, Murdock.”

Matt attempted to pull himself together, blushing. “I thought my collar would cover it,” he said weakly.

“Your coat collar did,” Foggy told him. “Your shirt collar, not so much.”

“Coffee’s ready,” Karen interjected, pouring herself a cup. Hoping to distract Foggy, and give Matt a few seconds to compose himself, she asked, “Is it all right if I eat at my desk? I was in a rush this morning, and I picked up something on my way here. I’ll be quick.”

“Okay with me,” said Foggy.

“Um. Yeah, of course,” said Matt. His head was spinning. Was Karen actually covering for him? As she went to her desk, he poured himself a cup of coffee, willing his hands not to shake. He leaned heavily against the doorway and sipped, trying to order his thoughts.

“Late night?” asked Foggy pointedly, getting his own cup. “You look like you really need that coffee, buddy. Did you get her number?”

“I didn’t even get her name,” Matt admitted honestly, his panic easing a little. This was safe ground, a familiar conversation that was embarrassing under the circumstances, but manageable. Let this pass as just one more of the many sexual encounters Foggy always seemed to think Matt was having. Karen had successfully steered Foggy away from more dangerous waters, and Matt was grateful.

Foggy followed Matt toward his office, another question on the tip of his tongue, but then he caught Karen’s eye where she sat at her desk, and thought better of it. Matt might be his closest friend, but Karen was still getting to know both of them. Bantering with Matt about his sex life in front of the only woman in the office was definitely a bad idea. _Now who’s unprofessional?_

He contented himself with shaking his head at Matt, telling him, “I’m shaking my head at you,” and heading back to his own office with his coffee.

Karen tried to think while she ate her bagel. She needed a private word with Matt, without looking suspicious. When she’d finished her breakfast, she picked up her purse and went to Matt’s door.

“Matt?” She tried to sound as casual as possible. 

“Yes?”

“I’ve got some concealer, if you want I can try to cover that hickey for you. It _is_ pretty visible.”

“Oh. Sure, that would be…I’d appreciate that, thank you.” His own attempt to sound casual wasn’t entirely successful, but it could probably be chalked up to embarrassment if Foggy had heard.

She crossed to his desk and got out the concealer, while he stood up and tugged at his necktie.

“Should I take this off?”

“Just loosen it, and undo your top button,” she directed him. “That should be enough.”

She eased his collar away from his neck and began to dab on concealer, leaning in close to whisper, barely audible: “I won’t tell him. But after work, you and I need to talk.”

Matt hadn’t yet managed to think ahead beyond the next few minutes, but he knew she was right. He was going to have to tell her _something_ , given what she already knew. And for her to keep the truth from Foggy, before she’d even heard any explanations, was a kindness he had no right to expect. He owed her.

“All right,” he breathed. “Thank you.” He relaxed slightly, secure in the knowledge that for today at least, his secret was safe. But as his anxiety began to ebb, he abruptly began to be aware of other considerations. 

Karen was standing so close that he could feel the heat of her body, could hear her heartbeat as clearly as his own, could smell the mingled scents she gave off, bringing the events of last night vividly to mind. Now that the shock of recognition was starting to fade, he was remembering things that brought a flush to his cheeks, and a stirring in his pants that he sternly suppressed. She was blushing too, which didn’t help. He focused on his breathing as her fingertips brushed his neck, determined not to embarrass himself, or her.

As Karen worked, her eyes kept straying from Matt’s neck up to his face. She stared at his lips and blushed, remembering how they had felt on her skin, remembering all the places those lips had touched her. Judging by the flush creeping up toward his hairline, he was remembering, too. Standing so close to him, she couldn’t help thinking about the trim, athletic body she now knew was hidden under that suit. It was disorienting to remember how had had looked last night, masked and dressed in skin-tight black, and compare that with the man in front of her. The two seemed utterly different, but now that she knew the truth, the similarities were clear.

She finished with the concealer, blending the edges carefully. She half-wished she had a legitimate excuse to keep touching him, even though she knew she should keep her distance until she knew what the hell was going on.

“There,” she said, “all done.” She stepped away from him, and he felt both relieved and disappointed. “This concealer doesn’t quite match your skin tone, but it’s definitely less noticeable than it was before.”

“Thanks, Karen. I really appreciate it.” They both knew he meant for more than just covering up his hickey.

“You’re welcome,” she answered, and went off to the tiny washroom to wash her hands.

That day had the unreal quality of a dream. Karen tried to behave as if everything were normal, but found it nearly impossible to focus on her work. Her mind kept reverting to two facts: she had unknowingly fucked _Matt Murdock_ in a public restroom, and, somehow, Matt was the mysterious masked man who had saved her life.

The first fact was embarrassing and arousing in equal measure. She had always found Matt attractive, but now he was a distraction that it was impossible to ignore. The sex had been amazing, and now she knew it was _him,_ and he was sitting _right there_ in the next room. She’d be lying if she said that a part of her wasn’t wondering what it would be like to do it again, in private, without having to rush or keep their voices down. The glimpses she had gotten of his body only made her want to see more, and remembering how well he knew how to use his hands, his mouth, made her squirm restlessly in her chair.

But he was her _boss,_ or at least, one of them. She had begun her morning anxiously determined to be a good employee, to behave in a professional manner, only to find that she’d been cavorting wantonly with her employer. The thought made her squirm in an entirely different way. She tried to tell herself that she’d done nothing wrong. He had been a willing participant, and neither of them had known who the other was. But the embarrassment persisted. All day, every time she spoke to Matt her pulse leapt and her cheeks reddened. (So did his, which was some comfort—he was clearly finding this just as difficult as she was.) Every time she spoke to Foggy, she wondered what he would think if he knew what they had done.

But if the first fact flustered her, the second fact baffled her. How on earth was is possible for Matt to be the man in the mask? How could a blind man fight the way he did? How could he _run,_ as she’d seen him do last night, without being able to see? All the while she’d been close to him in the club, he’d been so sure in his movements, responding to her with no hesitation or uncertainty. How did he manage to do _any_ of that?

She watched him surreptitiously, and felt a little ashamed of herself when she realized she was looking for any indication that he wasn’t really blind. It was absurd to think that he would _fake blindness_ just to protect a secret identity. Absurd, and unkind. Whatever secrets he was hiding, he had done her nothing but good, both in the mask and out. He deserved the benefit of the doubt until he had a chance to explain himself. And that meant doing her best to treat him exactly as she would on any other day, and giving Foggy no reason to ask awkward questions.

Matt, too, was trying to act normally, but it was a struggle. His carefully-maintained double life had been blown wide open. This was much worse than that nurse, Claire, seeing his face. He had made sure that she knew nothing about him that could be used to identify him. But Karen knew his name, where he worked, where he _lived._ He thought—he hoped—that he could trust her to keep his secret, but if any of his enemies ever found out that she knew….But there was no help for it. She knew, and there was no going back from that.

What was he going to say to her tonight? She was going to have questions, that could only be answered by telling her about his enhanced senses. Could he trust her with the secret he’d been keeping for most of his life?

What choice did he have?

He was going to have to ask her to continue hiding the truth from Foggy. Karen knowing was bad enough, but for Foggy to find out would be worse. It was asking a lot of her, he knew. She had spent time with Foggy outside of work—the two of them had gone bar-hopping together and bonded, while Matt had been busy getting his ass kicked by the Russians (and later, kicking theirs). They were friends now, and she wasn’t going to like the idea of deceiving him. She had agreed to it for today, but Matt knew that was only until she had a chance to get some answers. If he was going to ask her to lie for him, to a friend, then he owed her the truth.

Once he had reached that decision, he felt a little better. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation ahead of them, but he knew what he had to do.

Which left the other matter distracting him: the fact that the breathtaking woman he had hooked up with last night was _Karen._ Who worked for him. Which was _beyond _unprofessional, veering dangerously close to unethical. His behavior last night could be excused, on the grounds that he hadn’t realized who she was. But that excuse didn’t apply to the fact that now, today, he was more attracted to her than ever.__

Before today, he’d been aware that she had a pleasing shape, a nice smell, a voice he liked listening to. But now, he knew the taste of her skin, the feel of her under his hands and pressed against his body, how the smell of her intensified when she was aroused. He knew the small, intimate sounds she made when he touched her—and he wanted to hear them again, without last night’s restraint, in her beautiful voice.

How ironic that he had never heard that voice clearly last night—the one thing about her that he surely would have recognized. But due to the nature of their encounter, all he’d had to go on were two words, shouted over the music, and a scattered handful of whispers.

Well, now he knew, and it was seriously impairing his ability to concentrate on his job. She was so close, and as untouchable as the moon. But if he couldn’t touch, he could still hear how her heart rate jumped when she spoke to him, he could still feel the heat that flushed her cheeks whenever they got too close to each other. He could smell the subtle note of musk that suggested she was thinking along the same lines he was.

If she wanted him as much as he wanted her, what then? _Don’t get ahead of yourself._ There would be time enough to think about that later— _if_ she still wanted him after they had their talk. All he could do for now was get through the day as best he could, and try not to arouse Foggy’s suspicions by any odd behavior.

There was, Foggy thought, definitely something odd going on today between Matt and Karen. He was not an unduly suspicious man, but he was also no fool. He could see the blushes, the nervous fidgeting whenever they were in the same room. Neither of them said anything out of the ordinary, but there was a certain strain, a lack of ease, in what they did say.

In fact, it looked very much like they were interested in each other, and were trying not to show it. Which was…a bit sudden, maybe, but not entirely surprising. They were both very attractive people, and they got along well. But there had been no sign of this yesterday. What was different about today?

Well. Matt had come in to work sporting a fresh hickey, _that_ was different.

It was possible that had prompted Karen to think of him differently, to suddenly see him as a sexual person. Knowing in the abstract that most adults sometimes had sex was a different thing from being confronted with clear visual evidence that the hot guy you work with just got laid last night. And by a stranger, too—he said he didn’t even get her name. Given the restrained, professional demeanor he maintained at the office, yeah, Foggy could definitely see how Karen might be seeing Matt in a whole new light today. And, clearly, liking what she saw.

And Matt was probably picking up on that, and responding in kind. Or, who knows, maybe he’d liked her all along—Foggy had had his suspicions, when they had first met her—and he was just having a harder time hiding it today. Either way, something had definitely changed between them.

And if the two of them got together? Foggy liked Karen himself, and had tried a bit of mild flirting the night they had gone bar-hopping. But she had been very clear that it was _not_ a date, and he found he was okay with that. She obviously liked him in a friendly way, and gaining a friend was always a win. He wasn’t in so deep that he’d be hurt (much) if she started seeing someone else. Even if that someone was Matt.

He wasn’t concerned about the fact that she worked for them, although knowing Matt, _he_ might be. In a tiny office like theirs, the usual reasons why bosses weren’t supposed to sleep with their employees didn't really apply. Not only because he knew Matt would never abuse his power as her boss, but also because in actual fact, that power was pretty minimal. They were a brand-new firm, struggling to find clients, and couldn’t yet afford to pay her much of anything. Karen was their employee only because she chose to keep showing up.

So as far as Foggy could see, if they were into each other there was no reason for them not to go for it. But he kept his opinion to himself. They were both clearly trying to act like everything was normal, so he spent his day doing the same, ignoring the sexual tension in the air. As the afternoon wound to a close, he decided the best thing he could do would be to leave them alone to figure their shit out. If things were still like this on Monday, _then_ he’d say something.

As soon as the work day was over, he packed up his things.

“I’m gonna take off,” he called to Matt.

“All right,” Matt answered from his office.

“Have a good night,” Karen said as he put on his coat.

“Oh, I have big plans,” he told her. “Exciting plans. Laundry, and Netflix.”

She grinned. “On a Friday night? You wild man.”

“That’s me,” he agreed cheerfully, and left.

At his desk, Matt sighed with relief. He had been trying to think what he could say to put Foggy off, if he suggested they go out for a drink; wondering how he could possibly get Foggy to leave first without it looking suspicious. But now Foggy was gone, and this tortuous day was finally over—the work part, anyway. He let out a groan, leaned forward and set his head down on his desk.

Karen looked up at the sound, and smiled a little as she saw his exhausted face-plant through the windows of his office. She felt the same way. Pretending things were normal was _tiring._ How did Matt manage to do it every day? She tidied her desk and went to stand in his doorway.

“What a _day,_ ” she said with a sigh. “I thought it was never going to end.” She leaned her head back against the wood of the door frame. Relief warred with anticipation, now that it was finally time for them to talk.

“Oh, god, me too,” Matt said to his desktop. He wanted to stay right where he was, but he knew he was just delaying the unpleasant task ahead of him. He sat up, and regarded Karen. There was weariness in her voice and posture, and he knew she had struggled today as much as he had. Her heart rate was a little elevated—anxiety, maybe. But no sign of anything worse, like anger, or fear.

“I know you have questions,” he said quietly. “I’ll answer them. But explaining things may take a while. Do you want to come over to my place?”

“Sure,” she agreed. Which might be foolish, given that she now knew he was hiding some very significant secrets, one of them being that he could beat three men unconscious. But she felt sure he wasn’t planning to hurt her. She didn’t know how far she could trust him, but she trusted him that far. And he said he would answer her questions, when she’d been afraid he would refuse. She’d been preparing herself for an argument that hadn’t materialized.

It made her realize afresh how little she knew about him. But now, that was about to change.

They put on their coats in silence, neither of them having any inclination for small talk, and walked out the door together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to think through, what it would be like for both of them to have a bombshell like that dropped, and then have to spend all day stewing about it before they can talk.
> 
> And I couldn't ignore Foggy, if I was going to spend a whole chapter on the uncomfortable workday. I didn't want him raising any awkward questions, or guessing what was really going on, but OF COURSE he would notice that something was up. And I also wanted to make it clear that he isn't too upset by Matt and Karen being interested in each other this early in the timeline. I love Matt/Karen, but I also love Foggy, and I don't want to hurt him!


	3. Chapter 3

When they arrived at Matt’s place, he left his cane just inside the door. Karen watched him walk through the apartment, without hesitation, without reaching out to feel his way, and felt a prickle of unease. It might not seem that shocking that he could move with confidence in his own space, where he knew where everything was; but the first time she had been here, he hadn’t been so certain and unerring in his movements. It was uncanny, a little, and it reminded her of all the other things she’d seen him do, not knowing it was him.

Matt felt distinctly self-conscious as he set down their takeout on the small table, and went to the kitchen for plates. He was going against his most ingrained habits by letting himself move freely, the way he only did when he was alone or wearing the mask. But if he was going to tell Karen the truth, then there was no point in further pretense.

“Do you want a beer?” he asked, opening the refrigerator.

“Please,” she answered, then added under her breath, “I need a drink.”

He opened two bottles, and brought them to the table along with the plates. Karen unpacked their food from the carrier bag, and took a long swallow of beer when he set hers down in front of her (without hesitation, without touching anything else on the table, placed right where she could reach it easily).

Once they were both seated at the table, Karen took a deep breath. “So,” she said, “Explain. How do you do it? Do you have some secret superpower that makes up for not being able to see?”

“Not exactly,” he answered. He took off his dark glasses and set them on the table. “I do have…abilities…that compensate for my blindness, to an extent. But not superpowers. It’s more like, I have regular powers that have been amped up.” He hesitated for one last moment, then plunged in. “When I went blind, my other senses became stronger. A lot stronger.”

She frowned. Was that possible? “How much stronger?”

He tipped his head, considering. “I can hear your heart beating, and mine,” he answered, and sensed her sudden attentive stillness, her hands motionless on the table. “I can hear television, or radio, in several apartments…news broadcast…sounds like an action movie…an old sitcom, that sounds like a laugh track…I can hear conversations. Someone having an argument, a floor down. I can hear water gurgling in the pipes, all over the building. Radiators hissing. Traffic outside.

“I can smell our food, of course, but I can also smell my neighbors’ food, They’ve got pizza, next door…someone’s cooking cabbage down the hall…I can smell myself, and you…The guy downstairs needs to take his trash out.” He wrinkled his nose. “There’s something dead inside the walls.” He noticed, but decided to spare her, what he could smell, and hear, from his neighbors’ bathrooms. “There’s a draft coming in around the edges of the windows, I can feel it from here. I can feel the air currents moving in the room. I can feel the heat you give off.”

Karen listened, fascinated. It sounded incredible, but no more incredible than the things she knew he could do, without sight. And if he were going to lie to her, he’d had all day to think up something more plausible. As impossible as it sounded, she believed him.

“But how can you tell where things are?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you fumble or feel around for anything since we got here.”

“It’s hard to explain. I can feel air currents, like I said, and also changes in air pressure, in density. I know where things are because of how the air moves around them. And some objects make a sound, or have a smell…I can hear buzzing from anything electrical, for example, and feel tiny vibrations in the air, and the heat they generate. It’s a lot of things combined, from all my senses…I just _know._ I do it so automatically, it’s hard to break it down into parts, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re doing fine. I think I get it. Kind of. But what about fighting? I suppose you can hear the other person?”

“Yes, and smell them—everyone has a smell, especially if they’re sweating, or bleeding. And I can track movement by the feel of the air, as well as by sound. Rapid movements displace a lot of air at once.”

“And how did you learn to fight in the first place? Haven’t you been blind since you were a child?”

“I was trained, years ago.” For the first time, he turned his face away from her, as if this were a subject he’d rather avoid. After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “He left. The man who trained me. Suddenly. He never did explain what he was training me for.” He spoke bitterly, and quickly went on, “I’ve found my own use for the things he taught me, though, trying to help people.”

Karen could tell he didn’t want to talk about it. Well, that was all right. There were certainly things in her past that she’d rather not be questioned about. She let it go, and asked, “So how long have you been doing it?”

“Not long. Less than a year.”

“And what happens to the guys you fight? You don’t leave all of them on the steps of the New York Bulletin.”

“No. I turn them over to the police, when I can.” He thought about the child he had rescued the other night. “But sometimes keeping the victims safe is more important than collaring the criminals. Sometimes the best I can do is protect the vulnerable, and sometimes that means the bad guys stay on the street. But I’m doing all I can—or at least, almost all.” He turned back to face her. “I won’t kill. I probably could, but I don’t have the right to take someone’s life, no matter what they’ve done.”

His expression was serious and determined. She took a few minutes to think, trying to take it all in. She wasn’t sure if killing was always wrong—even the law recognized that under some circumstances, it was justified. But what he was doing was outside the law. And a vigilante with morals was a much more comforting thought than a vigilante without them. It meant something, something important, that there was a line he wouldn’t cross.

Matt didn’t interrupt her thoughts, and they ate their dinner in silence.

“Isn’t it overwhelming?” she finally asked. “If you can hear, and smell, and feel, so much more than I can, isn’t it too much?”

He nodded. “At first, it was. I had to learn how to filter the input, to pay attention to some and ignore the rest. It was…” his face twisted in remembered distress. “It was pretty awful, to be honest, before I gained some control over it.”

Karen felt a wave of sympathy for child-Matt, having to learn a whole new way of perceiving the world. “But it’s manageable now?”

“Mostly, yes. My control isn’t as good when I’m very tired, or when I get sick. Or in a particularly loud environment. At the club last night, I was wearing earplugs.” He gave her a small smile. “I took them out once we were in the bathroom.”

She blushed at the reminder of last night, all the personal feelings she had set aside rushing back. He was blushing, too, still smiling, and her heart lurched unexpectedly at the sight. He looked utterly charming, and utterly attractive. She wondered how he felt about her now, knowing that it had been her at the club. Did he want…? She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and forced her mind back to the questions that still needed answering.

“How much of all this does Foggy know?” she asked. “He doesn’t know you’re the man in the mask, but what about the rest of it?”

Matt sighed. “He doesn’t know any of it,” he said. “I’ve never told him about my enhanced senses.”

Karen stared at him. “Why not?”

“I don’t tell _anyone_ , I’ve always kept it a secret.”

She thought about that. “Well, I guess I can understand why you wouldn’t want everyone to know. It sounds pretty incredible, I’m sure some people wouldn’t believe you. And if they did…”

“People don’t generally respond well to someone who can do things no one else can,” he finished. “I’d be considered a freak, at best. And at worst…who knows? I don’t want that kind of attention.”

“I don’t blame you,” she said firmly. “And I don’t mind that you didn’t tell me before, we hardly know each other. But Foggy isn’t just anyone. You’ve known each other for years, you guys are best friends. Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

Matt was silent for a moment. “I didn’t tell him when we first met, obviously. I had no idea then that we’d be where we are today. But as time went on, and we stayed friends…the longer I knew him, the longer I’d been hiding it from him, and the harder it got to say anything. It was always too soon, until somehow it was too late. If I told him now…”

“He’d be hurt,” Karen supplied. “He’d probably be angry. But he wouldn’t stay angry. Wouldn’t it be worth it, to stop lying to him?”

“It isn’t just the fact that I’ve kept the truth from him that would upset him,” said Matt. “It’s the truth itself. I don’t think you realize all the implications of my abilities.”

“Like what?”

He steeled himself. Karen had taken the truth surprisingly calmly so far. But he had to make sure she understood the part she might not accept so easily.

“I can pick up fairly personal information about people,” he said carefully. “Things they wouldn’t tell me voluntarily. People’s bodies respond to their emotions. Heart rate, breathing, skin temperature, sweat. I can tell if someone’s nervous, or afraid.” He paused, to give his next words more weight. “I can tell if someone’s lying.”

“Oh,” she murmured. He was right, that was a pretty big deal.

“Sexual feelings, too,” he added bluntly. “The way people smell changes when they’re…excited.”

Karen flushed deeply. “You mean, all day today at work, you could tell I was—“ she broke off in embarrassment.

“All day today at work, I was in the same state you were,” he said gently, which was basically an admission that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, wasn’t it? He reached out and touched her hand briefly, and her skin tingled. She pressed her lips together, determined not to let herself get distracted.

“Is it…you said you ignore some input. Do you…” she sighed sharply. “Do you scan people on purpose, or do you pick things up because you can’t help it?”

It was a good question. “It depends on the circumstances,” he said honestly. “If I’m questioning a witness, yes, I purposely use all the tools I have. Sighted lawyers learn to look for visual cues—fidgeting, shifting eyes, nervous sweat. I’m gathering the same information, just by different means. And in a fight, yes, I need all the information I can get.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “That’s fair.”

“Among friends, I try to allow people their privacy. But some of it is involuntary. Especially in a small group. More people means more noise, so it’s easier to ignore any individual signal. One-on-one, like this…” He trailed off, and let the discomfort settle between them. There was no point in soft-pedaling. If she couldn’t accept this, then she couldn’t accept _him._

“How often do you try to hide your feelings?” he asked, to drive the point home. “Pretend to feel one thing, when you really feel something else? How often do you say things that aren’t true? Everyone does it. Little, insignificant things, mostly. Polite lies, face-saving lies. But I can tell when they do. When _you_ do.”

“That’s…unsettling,” she admitted slowly.

“Of course it is. And you’ve only known me for a couple of weeks. So how can I tell Foggy that I’ve known such private things about him, for as long as we’ve known each other, and I never told him?”

“You’re only making it worse, the longer you keep on not telling him,” she pointed out.

“Not if he never finds out,” Matt countered.

“He deserves better than having his best friend lie to him!”

“I agree. He does deserve better. But telling him would hurt him more than keeping it from him.”

Karen narrowed her eyes at the stubborn set to his jaw.

“What about the man in the mask?” she asked. “Doesn’t Foggy have a right to know the risks you’re taking? He’s not just your friend, he’s your business partner. The two of you left one of the biggest firms in the city to set up on your own, _together._ If anything happens to you, where does that leave him? What if you get caught?”

“Then the less he knows, the better for him.”

“What if you…” she took a deep breath, and forced out the words. “What if you get killed?”

“I won’t.”

She stared at him incredulously. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? ‘I won’t’? Matt, you don’t have superpowers, you said it yourself. You’re not indestructible! How can you keep Foggy in the dark about something so important?”

At her vehemence, Matt suddenly felt anxious. If she was so certain he was wrong, would she tell Foggy herself?

“Karen?” he said softly, reaching for her hand. “Please…”

She saw the apprehension on his face. “You want me to lie for you?” she asked, just as softly.

“I hope you won’t need to tell any actual lies,” he said earnestly. “Just…don’t tell him the truth. I know you think I’m wrong. But, please…”

She stared into his troubled eyes. _Damn._ Damn, damn, damn. “I never asked for this,” she muttered.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She heaved a sigh, and squeezed his hand. “All right. I won’t tell him. It’s not my secret to tell.”

Matt closed his eyes in relief, and squeezed back. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“I still think you should tell him yourself, though.”

He smiled sadly. “He wouldn’t take it nearly as well as you have. I think he’d be horrified, honestly. He has no idea that I’m capable of that kind of violence.”

Karen shrugged. “Everyone’s capable of violence, Matt. Even Foggy. It’s just a question of what it would take to bring that violence out.”

“It really doesn’t bother you?”

She thought for a moment, giving the question the consideration it deserved. “I suppose I’m biased,” she admitted. “You did save my life. Thank you, by the way.” she reached out with her other hand, and he met her halfway, holding both her hands in his. “I never got the chance to say it before. Thank you.”

He gave her a small smile. “You’re welcome,” he said, and waited.

She continued slowly. “There are so many bad things happening, every day. And I know, first-hand, that the police can’t always be trusted. You’re a good man, Matt, and you’re using your violence to help people. I’m okay with that.” He could hear her heart, calm and steady, telling him she meant it.

Whatever he had expected from her, it wasn’t that. He believed that what he was doing was right, but he was deeply ambivalent about what kind of a person it made him. The devil inside him was still a devil, even if its fury was channeled into protecting the helpless. His conscience needled him, driving him to go to confession before he’d begun his new double life, feeling the need of absolution for what he had decided to do.

But Karen didn’t seem to share his doubts. She sat beside him and held his hands, knowing what those hands had done, and called him a good man. And she wasn’t rejecting him for his strange abilities, either. She might be uncomfortable with them, but she was still here. She wasn’t leaving him. If he had expected anything, it was that—some form of withdrawal once she knew the truth, some distancing, even if she didn’t walk completely out of his life. But here she was, _staying,_ trying to understand him. He told himself it was a bad idea to care for her too much, but a part of him knew it was already too late.

Karen stood up, and took her plate to the kitchen. “That night,” she said, thinking back. “When I was here before. “You knew I was lying, when I said I hadn’t made a copy of the Union Allied files.”

“Yes,” he agreed, bringing over his own plate.

“And you heard me when I snuck out?”

He nodded. “I suited up as fast as I could, and followed you.”

And arrived only just in time. She had been stunned from the blow to her head, her assailant armed with a knife, when the man in the mask…when _Matt_ had come bursting into her apartment and saved her. She felt a surge of adrenaline at the memory. The moments after her head hit the wall were hazy, but she could recall all too vividly her sudden terror at being attacked in her own home, on top of the previous attempt on her life at the police station—and laced through the fear, a terrible helpless sense of futility that this time, they would win; this time, she was going to die. She shuddered, and swallowed against a lump rising in her throat.

Matt heard the spike in her heart rate, the gulping hitch in her breath. The sweat breaking out on her skin smelled like fear, and he could guess what she was thinking about.

“Karen?” he said quietly, reaching out hesitantly to touch her hand. It was much colder than it had been a minute ago. He wasn’t sure what to do—would touching her be reassuring, or alarming? “Karen, you’re safe.”

“I know.” She shook her head sharply, feeling angry at herself that a memory could upset her so much. Matt held her hand gently, giving her plenty of space to pull away if she wanted to, and when she looked at his face his eyes were warm with concern.

Her heart was still pounding, but the cold knot in her stomach loosened a little. This wasn’t just the faceless stranger who had saved her and then disappeared into the night; this was Matt, who had believed her when no one else had; who had brought her into his home and offered her his own bed to sleep in, when she had been afraid to trust anyone. She stepped forward and put her head on his shoulder.

Matt could feel that she was trembling slightly, and he tentatively put his arms around her, ready to let go if she stiffened or pulled back. But she just tucked her face into his neck, with a quiet sigh. He held her closer, feeling anger clench in his guts at the thought of everything she’d been subjected to, just for trying to do the right thing. He pressed his cheek against her hair, rubbing her back until her hammering heart slowed. She relaxed against him, one arm sliding around his waist, but her other hand gripped his shirt front, fingers curled into a fist.

“I hate…” her voice shook, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “I hate feeling so helpless,” she said, sounding half angry, half defeated. “I hate feeling _weak,_ like I need a man to protect me.”

“You aren’t weak,” he answered firmly. “The fact that you needed help against a _professional hitman_ doesn’t make you weak. You’re strong, Karen, and brave.” He ran his fingers softly through her hair. “You saw something wrong, and you didn’t tell yourself it was nothing, or that it was someone else’s problem. You did something about it. You put a stop to it. You knew you were taking on people with a lot of power, and you did it anyway.”

Karen shook her head to hear herself described in such glowing terms. That was the kind of person she wanted to be, but she didn’t feel like she was, despite what she’d done. “I’m not as great as you’re making me sound,” she said quietly. “But it’s still nice to hear. Thank you.” God, it felt good to stand here like this, just holding each other and talking. She had wanted to feel his arms around her all day, but this wasn’t about sex, it was about _caring_ , and she wanted to wrap herself in the feeling like a warm blanket.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, his lips nearly brushing her hair. She _was_ strong, and brave. She was a fighter, like him, determined to see justice done. And when she thought he was wrong, she was willing to argue with him, defending Foggy’s rights just as vigorously as Matt would himself if anyone else challenged them. The more he knew about her, the more strongly drawn to her he was, in ways that were much more than just physical.

There was no need for him to keep holding her, now that she had gotten over her upset. But he didn’t want to let go, and she seemed content to stay where she was. She fit in his arms like she belonged there.

After a few minutes, she lifted her head and drew back far enough to see his face. “Are we going to talk about…this?” she asked softly, letting go of his shirt and reaching up to stroke his face.

Matt closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against her hand, even though he knew he shouldn’t. “Yes,” he answered, and sighed. “Yes, let’s talk about it.” He stepped away from her, breaking their embrace. He sounded unhappy, and Karen felt a chill.

“Let’s go and sit down,” she suggested, taking his hand and leading him over to the couch in the living room. She sat close beside him, but he shifted away, putting some space between them and reluctantly disengaging his hand from hers.

“Karen, you work for me,” he said firmly.

She frowned. “Does that matter?”

“Of course it does!” he answered, but despite himself he added, “…doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think it has to,” she replied. “Matt, listen. I know all the reasons why in general, it’s a bad idea to sleep with my boss. The power imbalance, the potential for being taken advantage of. Anyone who’s ever worked in a support position in the corporate world knows all about it, believe me. But look at our office, specifically. The entire workforce is the three of us. There aren’t any other secretaries there, to think I’m getting special treatment because I’m dating one of the partners. There aren’t any promotions I’ll be passed over for, or professional opportunities I’ll be denied, if you aren’t happy with me. Even if you were the kind of dick who’d pull that kind of bullshit, which you aren’t.”

Matt didn’t speak, but his expression looked more hopeful. “And anyway,” she continued, “Of the three of us, I’m the only one who actually knows how to run an office. You could manage without me now, but I’m counting on you two to make a success of it, and have enough clients someday that you’ll need my administrative skills to keep the place running smoothly. The more you need me, the more the power balances out.”

A smile crept over his face as he listened. “You make a good case,” he admitted. “That’s a solid argument. Maybe we can use you for more than just secretarial stuff, once there’s more work coming in.”

“Maybe you can,” she agreed.

But his smile faded quickly, and he made no move to close the distance between them on the couch.

“What is it?” she asked. “Something’s still bothering you. What—oh.” She flushed with embarrassment as a new thought occurred to her. “Don’t you…if you don’t _want_ to get involved with me, then that’s—I mean, if you’re more of a one-night stand person than a relationship person, there’s nothing wrong with that—“

“What?” He looked taken aback. “Karen, wait. Why would you think I’m not a relationship person?”

“Well. I just…” she stumbled over her words, feeling flustered. “I mean, we both thought last night was just a one-night thing. Which is fine. But, well, Foggy seems to think you do a lot of that. Look at the way he reacted this morning at work—like you being with some random, nameless woman was completely normal. And when I went out drinking with him the other night, I heard all those messages he left you, I was right next to him every time he called you.”

Matt groaned, remembering the string of messages—Foggy had called him each time they moved on to a new bar, his messages all variations on a theme: “Matt! Climb off whoever you’re on and come join us!”

“It’s not what it sounds like,” he told her. “I wasn’t doing what he thought I was doing that night. In fact, that’s when I got this.” He put a hand to his side, and Karen remembered the injury, the square of gauze taped to his skin.

“Foggy’s always thought that I’m having more sex than I really am,” he went on. “For as long as he’s known me. And, well, it’s a convenient excuse, now that I do other things at night. Whenever he can’t get ahold of me, I just let him draw his own conclusions. God, he probably does think I have a lot of one-night stands, he knows I haven’t dated anyone in months.” He shook his head.

“And to be fair, he has watched me go through a fair number of relationships that didn’t last very long, for various reasons. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want something that lasts. I just don’t seem to be very good at it.” He made a face. “So I wouldn’t say something’s bothering me, exactly. It’s just kind of hard to believe that you actually want to get involved with me, now that you know the truth. Or that I won’t manage to fuck it up somehow. In my experience, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

“Yeah, I can understand that.” She considered him thoughtfully for a long moment. “I don’t know you very well,” she told him. “You’re clearly a more complicated person than I thought. But I _want_ to know you. I’d like to spend time with you, so we can get to know each other better. Just as ourselves, outside of our jobs at the office.” She couldn’t resist flirting a little, adding, “And you know, we already know the sex would be fantastic.”

He laughed out loud, and she caught her breath at the way his whole face lit up, looking carefree and _happy._ He was usually so serious. “Yeah, we sure do,” he agreed, his smile sliding briefly into a wicked grin that set her pulse racing. “And I agree with the rest of it, too,” he went on. “I’d like to be able to be myself, completely myself, with you. I’d like to spend time with you without hiding anything.”

“Did you ever tell the people you dated before? About your senses?”

He hesitated. “No,” he said, his voice suddenly flat. He turned away from her, just as he’d done when he mentioned his training. But a moment later, he turned back with a sigh. “There was one woman, in college, who knew,” he said quietly. “It ended…badly.”

Clearly this was another painful subject. Karen felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness at the thought of Matt being hurt. She shifted closer to him and took his hands in hers. “I’m not her,” she said. “And I’m glad you can stop pretending to me. I’m glad that you trust me, you didn’t have to tell me as much as you have.”

He smiled and squeezed her hands, but couldn’t help reminding her: “You said it’s unsettling, the things I can do with my senses.”

“I did. It is. But I don’t think it has to be a deal-breaker. There’s a lot more to you than just that.” She moved still closer, until their legs were touching. “I really like you,” she said softly.

“I really like you, too,” he answered, finally letting himself believe it.

She curled her legs up underneath herself, turning her body to face him, her knees resting on his thigh. As silence fell between them, he listened to her accelerating heartbeat, and felt his own picking up to match it. After a moment, she lifted one hand to his face, cupping his jaw, and slowly stroked her thumb across his lips. He caught his breath, his mouth falling open a little. He leaned forward, and raised a hand to her cheek, and then they were kissing, soft and slow.

Karen slid her hand up into his hair, just as she’d wanted to do last night, and he made a small pleased sound. She curled her other arm around his shoulders, while his free hand dropped to her hip, tugging her closer until she was half in his lap.

She settled herself against him more comfortably as his lips moved warmly over hers. When his tongue brushed lightly across her lips, she opened to him with a happy sigh. This time, they both knew who they were kissing; this time, it was about more than just momentary pleasure. There was trust now, and acceptance, and caring. It was a good place to start.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both smiling.

“Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow?” Matt asked, stroking her cheek.

“Yes,” she answered, her skin flushing warmly beneath his fingers. Then she laughed quietly. He raised his eyebrows quizzically, and she said, “We seem to be doing things in the wrong order.”

He grinned. “Sex before the first date,” he said, shaking his head.

“ _And_ I’ve already slept in your bed,” she reminded him, and leaned in for another quick kiss. “The next time I do, I want you to be in it with me.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, with another kiss, not so quick. His lips left hers to move leisurely over the rest of her face, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, her chin. She smiled, running her fingers through his hair, fingertips rubbing over his scalp. He made a contented _Mmmmmf_ and relaxed against her, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Are you…going out…tonight?” she asked, still stroking his hair.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “I’ve been going after a criminal organization, disrupting their business, but so far I haven’t been able to find out who’s behind it, who’s running the operation.”

“That sounds pretty serious. Can you take on a whole organization by yourself?”

“You did,” he reminded her, lifting his head and kissing her.

“So I know how dangerous it is,” she said. She shivered a little despite herself, and he rubbed her arm gently. “Keep yourself in one piece, all right?”

“I will. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, you do. I wouldn’t still be alive if you didn’t. But anyone can have a bad day, Matt. Anyone can be unlucky. Just…don’t get careless, okay?”

He remembered the beating the Russians had given him just the other night. That was what carelessness led to, and overconfidence. His expression softened, and he took her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“You’re right. I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” she smiled, and sighed. “I suppose I should go, then, and let you get on with it.” She was still worried, but she didn’t want to fuss at him. She believed in what he was doing, and she supposed worrying about him was just part of the deal, now that she knew the truth. She uncurled her legs and stood up, and Matt walked with her to the entryway.

She put on her coat, and then reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back, forgetting the night’s work ahead of him for a moment in simple happiness. It still seemed incredible that she accepted the truth about him—not only accepted, but wanted to be with him. He tipped her face up and kissed her, and she smiled against his lips.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said, letting go of her reluctantly.

“Okay. Tomorrow,” she agreed. She had no idea what it was going to be like, dating a man with enhanced senses and a secret, violent double life. No doubt there would be challenges ahead. But there would be happiness, too. She liked him enough to take the chance, and she felt a warm glow knowing that he liked her enough, too. They would figure it out. She smiled again, pressing her cheek against his so he could feel it.

“Goodnight,” she murmured.

“Goodnight,” he answered, smiling back.

One last kiss, and she left. Stepping out into the chilly night, she headed for home, her heart full of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show seems perfectly happy to ignore the ethical implications of employer-employee relationships, but in the real world it matters. I've mentioned it in passing once or twice in my earlier fics, but this time I thought it needed to be addressed seriously. Plus, it makes a convenient obstacle for Matt to have to get over before he can let himself be happy. :)
> 
> This isn't the first identity reveal I've written, but it's the first where Karen hasn't killed Wesley yet. It was nice, for a change, to let them talk about secrets, and honesty, without Karen feeling guilty!
> 
> And, of course, at this point all the crap that happened to her in episode 1 is very recent, and still fresh in her mind. I didn't want to give her a full dissociative episode about it, but I absolutely think it would be upsetting to her to think about, and that she would hate feeling so upset.

**Author's Note:**

> When I first thought of this idea, I thought it would just be a quick porn-without-plot. What if Matt and Karen had sex without realizing who each other were? I knew it would need to happen before they knew each other very well, so it would be plausible for them to not recognize each other, and I liked the idea of costumes and disguises, and that was enough to get me started.
> 
> But then I thought, What if they recognized each other the next day at work? And I couldn't resist. Incidentally, If we're assuming that season one takes place in fall of 2014, I'm aware that Halloween was on a Friday that year. Don't care. I have a story to tell, and that story requires the day after to be a work day. We can all suspend our disbelief, yes? Good.


End file.
